


Your Love Will Kill Me

by VolxdoSioda



Series: Whumptober 2018 (Complete) [22]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Day 22 - friendly fire, M/M, Polyship Roadtrip, Whumptober, relationship dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-07 19:57:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16414943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VolxdoSioda/pseuds/VolxdoSioda
Summary: There have been arguments, of course. Screaming matches, hissed words, venomous barbs launched when fights don't get fought on time, or when someone pushes the boundaries a little too much. They've hurt each other just as much as they've hurt their enemies over the years, and sometimes looking back, Noctis wonders how the hell they've managed to forge something resembling an actual relationship out of the whole squalling mess.





	Your Love Will Kill Me

By now, it's become something of a rote understanding within their ranks; anytime they find a Tomb or have to go beneath ground for anything, chances are good they'll be in an enclosed space for a period of time. Anywhere from a few hours to a few days. And that means a changing of the guard, so to speak.

Because in the tight corners and narrow ledges of those depths, it's impossible to fire a gun or toss a blade or swing a sword without hitting someone. They're all pressed together, back-to-back, side-to-side, and each movement is made cautious by the knowledge that if they off one another down here, it's going to be that much harder to progress or go back.

They've learned the beauty of fighting as a literal  _team -_ Prompto pulling the enemies in with a gravity sphere, and then Ignis and Noctis each standing to a side and chipping away at their enemies while Gladio finds an opening where he can heft his sword without injuring anyone.

There have been a few close calls, in the darkness. Noctis still has nightmares where he tastes blood from that time Ignis' blade kissed the seam of his lip and nearly gave him a wider smile; Prompto recalls the one time he let his temper get the better of him, and very nearly shot Ignis in the dark when his shots caused bloodshed instead of giving light. Gladio and Ignis have been more careful than their younger friends, but they've each had Death brush up against them at least once down there in those caves.

And then there's the whole matter of the training spars.

The fact of the matter is, after a certain point, it stops being training, and more an excuse to vent. And it becomes a ritual - picking a time when everyone is frazzled and ready to snap, and heading out to spend a night at a haven. It has to be a full day - it takes from sundown to sundown to finally let the emotions bleed, never mind the healing that usually comes in the wake of chucking weapons at each other.

Noctis learns fast on his feet; he's gone from a bumbling teenager to a lethal predator beneath the hands of his trainers, and Ignis and Gladio have stopped having qualms about putting his face to the dirt. It tends to dissolve into a lopsided three-on-one battle before long, simply because Noctis is the crown prince, and even when he's doing his best, a lot of the times his stress feeds into everyone else's, or his actions cause stress by turns.

When at last it's all over, and Noctis is pinned or pinning the last man on the team, they brush each other off, haul each other to their feet, and stumble over to start patching each other up. Kisses and easy affection gets shared here, simply because nobody wants to leave anyone hurting. Sometimes they're still heated after the fight, or the anger shifts into something just as hot, and hands linger and gazes burn until the mending is done, and then they're locking lips and putting hands on bodies and staggering their way into the tent, eight pairs of legs and a need to be beneath each other's skin guiding them. 

(This is when a different kind of struggle comes along. Gladio and Ignis have a  _thing_ for Noctis on his knees, but even moreso when he's trapped between three of them, unable to squirm or fight or take anything but what they're willing to give him. And Noctis loves the removal of order, of duty from his shoulders nearly as much as he loves being taken apart by them, trusting them to put his pieces back together even as they break him.)

There have been arguments, of course. Screaming matches, hissed words, venomous barbs launched when fights don't get fought on time, or when someone pushes the boundaries a little too much. They've hurt each other just as much as they've hurt their enemies over the years, and sometimes looking back, Noctis wonders how the hell they've managed to forge something resembling an actual relationship out of the whole squalling mess.

But he can't bring himself to regret it. Not when he's screaming at his friends, not when he's putting blades to skin, not when he's fucking them on the thin sleeping bags in the tent. Because from start to finish it's been  _them,_ all in lockstep together, and they've been made better for all the failures they've had.


End file.
